I used to run, and I use the term 'used to' very loosely. I got out of the Army about ten years ago -- exactly ten this summer, wow has it been that long? Good grief. Let's see, six years in, ten years out, add 18 to that, yup, 34, so the math is correct. But, I digress.
Exactly ten years ago, I wasn't doing much Physical Training. Lemme see, it's almost March as I write this, so ten years ago I was about a million months pregnant, with Aidan...who will be, you guessed it, ten in early May.
Back up a few years from that--before Timmy, so keep going. I used to work out hard in the Army. I mean four or five days a week of mandatory running, push ups, sit-ups and any other medieval exercise the Army can come up with. Never, well maybe rarely, did I leave PT (Physical Training) dripping wet in sweat, and not even wanting to be near myself.
Move forward that decade plus I just mentioned, and enter Average Joe trainer.
He has me working out 6 days a week. Four of those days I do at least 45 minutes of heavy cardio on the elliptical machine. And when I say heavy, I mean heavy. A cross between 45 straight minutes on high resistance, burning my thighs and ass the whole time -- of for a change up, that blasted interval training for the full 45 minutes. Two other days of the week, he ALSO has me do one-hour of intensive weight training. I hurt just thinking about it.
Granted, even on the light days -- the cardio only days -- I leave knowing I have burned just under 400 calories ... on a bad day.
400 calories, that's about this:
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Or maybe it's just a farm with a pastry chef. Count me in.
That is what I think about starting at about minute 23 on the elliptical. While listening to Adele belt out songs. Yeah, I will set fire to the rain while eating that.
Which brings me to my next point.
The other day I am dripping with sweat on about minute 38 of the elliptical. Yes I count those minutes. Average Joe trainer walks, or mozies, or sashes over and gets on the elliptical next to mine, where I am panting, sweating, nearly done, and STARVED.
He looks at me like, "I want to talk," and I politely take off my earbuds--which are probably blasting some U2 song and say "hi."
"If" he says, deep in thought, "you could have anything right now, what would it be?"
Well, we're about 15 minutes (at least) into my fantasy about pumping yellow cake with chocolate frosting directly into my bloodstream, so yeah, this is a no brainer. Even though I do honestly know it's a terrible, terrible trap.
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"I want a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Not a piece, the whole cake." (Remember that previous post about my daughter's mad baking skills? Yeah, that's what I am up against here.)
"Ah," he says, "I see." He is now looking out into the distance (there is a fat chick in front of us) wistfully, like he is trapped deep in thought...deep thought like he may have just figured out the meaning of life, the universe and everything.
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Three minutes to go on the elliptical, as he get's down and goes about his business and now I have to choose a new song to push through with.
The Clash. Should I stay, or should I go.
Easy enough.
OMG I died laughing reading this! I may have even burned a few calories and worked my abs while laughing! You are getting better!!
ReplyDeleteI am sure you worked your abs...LOL
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